


The Enslavement of Scott McCall

by ract46



Series: WERES AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, Oblivious Stiles, One-Sided Relationship, Pining Scott, Prequel, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ract46/pseuds/ract46
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall is at home preparing to get a good night's rest to prepare for the start of the semester, he wants to make first line on the lacrosse team this year.  Then his best friend Stiles turns up and they head into the woods to search for half of a dead body.  What could go wrong?</p><p>This is a prequel to the story 'A Doggy of my Own', so if you have already read that story you'll already know how this is going to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Jokr88](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokr88/pseuds/Jokr88) for beta-ing this chapter.

Scott is sitting on the chair in his bedroom absently restringing the pouch on his lacrosse stick. He is naked apart from the short towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken. He can’t stop thinking back to what he did earlier. Thinking back to before he showered, and seriously hoping no-one ever finds his porn, or looks at his browser history. He needs to go back to into his browser and delete his temporary internet files, his browser cache and browser history, and then run a disk clean-up. He really doesn’t want to risk his mom, or Stiles, finding any of that, of them knowing the _sick_ fantasies he has.

But it doesn’t stop the stirring in under his towel at the memory of lying naked in the tub, aiming the hot golden stream up over his body, hitting his face and pouring into his open mouth. All the while imagining it was Stiles standing over him as the flow ended, his cock thickened, and he jerked himself to release pretending it was Stiles he tasted in his mouth, pretending it was Stiles’ white hot seed splashing over his abs and chest as he whispered ‘ _thank you Sir_ ‘.

It was a fantasy, and something that he knows can never become reality. How could it when he knows that Stiles love for the ‘ _strawberry blonde goddess that is Lydia Martin_ ‘ was epic in it proportions, and she would never have the degrading thoughts and desires that Scott has.

As the dull ache of longing settles in his stomach he returns his thoughts to the stringing of the pouch with renewed determination, checking the surety of his work before throwing the stick on the bed and turning to the bar across the door. Not bothering to get dressed he decides to do some pull-ups on the bar before he heads to bed, it’s the first day back at school tomorrow and he wants to be ready, he wants to make the first-line of the lacrosse team. He wants Stiles to see him play well, see him playing as well as Stiles does.

He’s just finished brushing his teeth when he hears... something. His head snaps round at the sound, the water still dripping from his chin.

Scott tightens the towel around his waist and picks up the baseball bat before heading out to investigate. He seriously hope’s it’s just an intruder and not a feral werewolf. A human intruder he can deal with, an untrained slave-pet that’s escaped is another matter.

Stiles could probably deal with a wild slave-pet, he scored really well on the WERES evaluation. While Stiles was rated for both wild and domesticated slave-pets Scott’s own evaluation was only for domesticated. Stiles was even authorised to own two. Scott can’t hold back the smile that creeps over his face as he remembers telling Stiles how he would be the _awesomest_ Master any slave-pet could have, knowing that Stiles wouldn’t know just how much he meant every word. He grips the bat tightly as he heads out onto the porch, praying that it isn’t a stray werewolf out there.

Scott falls back, landing on his ass, screaming as the figure falls over the edge of the roof, hanging there, startled and screaming themselves in shock as Scott stands up, the towel caught under his foot and falling loose at his feet leaving him naked with the baseball bat in hand.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” Scott asks exasperatedly.

“ **ME?** You were the one not answering your phone!” Stiles replies, his arms flailing at his sides as he hands from the roof, “And why are you **NAKED!** And what exactly do you plan to do with a bat? And dude cover up, do you want everyone seeing your junk hanging out there?”

Scott scrambles to pick up the towel at his feet, trying to cover his nudity while still holding the bat. The bat clatters to the ground as he fumbles trying to get the towel from under his foot and back around his waist. The towel and the bat falling to the ground again as they slip from his grasp. He quickly snatches the towel from at his feet to hide his growing embarrassment.

“I thought you were a predator,” Scott says as he drops his eyes to the ground suddenly feeling foolish, “an escaped slave-pet or something...”

“An escaped slave-pet?” Scott can here in the tone of Stiles voice how stupid he thinks Scott was, “What did you plan to do with the bat? Play fetch? And without any pants on?”

Before Scott can respond Stiles continues.

“Listen, I know it’s late but you gotta hear this, my dad left about twenty minutes ago, dispatch called and they are calling in every deputy in Beacon Hills PD and even state police.”

“What for?”

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Stiles pushes himself over the edge of the roof to land on the ground.

“Like a dead body?” Scott asks, mentally slapping himself as he does.

“No, a body of water,” Stiles deadpans, “Yes dumbass, a dead body.”

“You mean like a murder or something?” Scott asks, unable to look Stiles in the eye 

“Nobody knows yet,” as Stiles answers Scott’s gaze tracks between his flailing hand waving between them and Stiles’ mouth, he bites his bottom lip to stop himself from licking his own lips as Stiles continues to answer, “Just that it was a girl probably in her twenties...”

“So, wait, if they found the body what are they looking for?” Scott mentally fist pumps at finally thinking of something smart to ask.

“That’s the best part,” Stiles grins excitedly, just on the sane side of maniacal and dangerous, “they only found half,” Stiles is barely containing himself from bouncing with glee. 

Scott isn’t sure that he should find this side of Stiles so arousing, but he is grateful that it’s dark and Stiles can’t see the outline of his hard-on pressing against the leg of his pants. But that gleam in Stiles’ eye at the thought of hunting through the woods in the dark to look for half a dead body. All Scott can think is that he wish that the brightness, the excitement that is emanating out of Stiles’ eyes was for him. It’s as if Scott is absorbing Stiles’ excitement and energy, his blood pumping at seeing Stiles so enthusiastic.

“We’re going!” Stiles says after the briefest of pauses.

Scott was never gonna argue. He’s never said no to whatever Stiles wanted them to do, and he could never imagine a time when he would. With a sigh he pulls the door closed behind him and makes to follow Stiles to his jeep.

“Ya know Scotty, I think you wanna put some clothes on before we head into the woods, and maybe cover up your own wood,” Stiles says with a laugh.

Scott runs back into the house, the towel barely covering his ass, with his hardness bouncing under the front of the thin towel.

“Are we really doing this?” Scott asks as they get out of Stiles’ jeep at the edge of the preserve.

“You’re the one that always complains that nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles chides him as he strides ahead into the woods.

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow,” Scott says in reply, trying not to sound like he’s whining.

“Because sitting on the bench is so gruelling,” Stiles sneers back at him.

“No,” Scott wheezes, trying to keep up with Stiles is causing his asthma to flare up, “because I plan to play this year, to make first line like you, Danny and Jackson.” Danny was the best player the school had, after Matt but he was the team captain for a reason. Jackson and Stiles were no slouches either though, they both scored more often than not and were the reason the team had won the game on more than one occasion.

“Hey, that’s the spirit,” Stiles cheerfully retorts, “Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Scott asks, “Which half of the body are we looking for?”

“Huh,” Stiles laughs, “I didn’t even think about that.”

“And what if whatever killed the body is still out here?”

“Also something I didn’t think about.”

“Huh, and what if it’s a slave-pet gone feral?” Scott asks, “Or an escaped alpha?”

Stiles turns to him, with a look that clearly says he’s being stupid, “It can’t be, they would have issued a warning and set a curfew for everyone to stay indoors if there was an alpha on the loose.”

They clamber up a muddy hill, Scott taking out his inhaler to use. At the top Stiles drops to the ground at the sight of the line of flashlights ahead from the search party. When it is clear they haven’t seen them Stiles takes off running after the search party ahead.

“Make sure no one sees you,” Stiles calls back to Scott, “Your mom will kill me if you get in trouble.”

Scott tries to keep up but falls behind, his breathing laboured as he takes another hit from his inhaler. He hears the barking of a dog and someone shouting ‘stay where you are’ and ducks behind a tree to hide, before the sound of Stiles’ dad, the sheriff’s voice can be heard clearly over the dog and other officer.

“This little delinquent belongs to me,” Scott hears the sheriff say. Relief washes over him that he hasn’t been seen.

“Dad, how you doing?” Stiles casually asks. Scott hopes that Stiles doesn’t mention that he is out here too. His mom would have a cyanotic fit if she found out that he had followed Stiles out here. She has already threatened to ban Stiles from the house and ground Scott if he gets into any more trouble. She is convinced that Stiles is a bad influence on him. 

“So, where’s your usual partner in crime?” the sheriff’s question brings Scott’s attention back to him and Stiles. He presses himself back against the tree, trying to make sure he can’t be seen.

“Who? Scott? Scott’s home,” Stiles is saying between panting breaths, “Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for first day back at school tomorrow.”

“ ** _SCOTT YOU OUT THERE!_** “ the sheriff hollers, his flashlight sweeping back and forth as Scott holds himself still against the trunk of the tree, “ ** _Scott_**.”

Scott stays silent, Stiles told him not to get caught. He knows he’s gonna have to walk home in the rain when he hears the sheriff march Stiles off to his car, but at least his mom won’t put a hold on any bro time with Stiles. And while marathon sessions of Call of Duty may not be how Scott would want to spend all their time together, he’ll take what he can get; he knows if Stiles found out what he really dreams of doing he would lose his friend. And that isn’t something he is willing to risk.

Scott stumbles through the woods, tripping over the undergrowth. The rain soaking into his red hoodie. The sounds around him setting him on edge, the leaves crinkling underfoot. He stops staring into the mist hanging around the trees ahead of him, shaking his inhaler he is startled by the stampede of deer out of the mist, knocking him to the ground, his inhaler flying out of his hand. He covers his head as the rangale of frightened deer leap over him, their hooves thudding as they hit the ground around him, narrowly missing his body. His heart is thumping in his chest as they pass.

With the last of the deer rushing after the rest of the herd Scott staggers to his feet. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he uses it as flashlight, searching over the ground for his inhaler. His eyes roaming over the dull brown leaves, his fingers raking through them, turning over leaves and twigs as he looks for the contrasting white of the plastic container. The light from his phone falls on open eyes of the body they were looking for, her head turned looking out at him he staggers back the light tracing down her back to the bloody mess of her waist. He trips backwards over the edge of the slope, falling down the small incline, his phone dropped from his grasp. Falling backwards, head over heels as he collides into trees in his descent.

Scott pulls himself up, resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to find his inhaler. Hopefully he can come back out tomorrow after school, when it’s light, and look for it. And pleased with himself that he found the body, he can tell Stiles and they can come out together. He knows Stiles will be thrilled about that, he can just imagine the look on Stiles’ face. He can’t wait to tell him in the morning.

The low growl from behind him stifles Scott’s enthused mood. He slowly turns to look over his shoulder towards where the noise is coming from. In the darkness, amongst the trees, he can barely make out the outline of black, the two small red dots trained on him. Fear grips him as his brain registers what he is looking at, the dark, red-eyed, growling presence of an alpha werewolf.

Before Scott can move to run the creature has pounced over the distance between them. The fallen logs and trunks of dead trees proving no barrier to it as it lunges at its terrified prey. It knocks Scott onto his back, he turns screaming, trying to scramble out from under the body of the beast, his hands grasping at the twigs and leaves trying to find purchase on anything to stop it pulling him back, pulling him into range of the sharp white fangs in its snarling gaping maw.

Scott’s head rears back as the flesh of his right side is pierced. He’s thrown aside and clambers to escape. Ducking and weaving between the trees he rushes through the woods, his arms swiping branches from his path as he staggers out onto the road.

He hears the howl of the alpha as he’s looking at the wound in his side. His mind a fog of worry and fear from the knowledge that only two possible futures are ahead of him. Either he will change and be enslaved, or he’ll reject the bite and die.

He can’t help but laugh as his brain supplies that either way he doesn’t need to worry about his inhaler anymore. But his laughter turns to tears that are hidden in the rain.

Scott is scared. Seriously terrified.

When he checks the wound in the morning after a fitful night of broken sleep it is mostly healed. He’s not rejecting the bite. During the night he kept dreaming of... something. Something that called to him, made him want to go, to run, to be part of... something. But then he’d see Stiles standing there in the middle of his room pointing to him as he knelt naked at his feet telling him, ‘ ** _No. Stay._** ‘ He stayed knowing he wanted to obey Stiles, jerking awake each time at the sudden bark of Stiles’ words in his dream.

He can’t let his mom know, if he gets caught and she knew and had tried to protect him they would charge her with keeping an unlicensed slave-pet. She hasn’t even taken the assessment to be allowed to own one. And if she was assessed the same as he was his mom couldn’t own him anyway, not that she’d have the money to buy him, he only profiled suitable to own a domestic slave-pet and he’s a wild. He wasn’t raised in one of the slave-pet facilities, like the new one that Argents have just started outside of town.

The tears come unbidden down his cheeks. He doesn’t know what to do. Normally he’d ask Stiles, but he can’t. Not this time, for the same reason he can’t let his mom know. He can’t let anyone know he was bitten. If WERES catch him, if he isn’t able to hide what he’s becoming, anyone who knows and WERES find out they didn’t tell will be charged. And if they do tell he’ll be enslaved.

And sure that would almost be his sick fantasy come true. Except in his fantasy his Master cared about him, in his fantasy he chose to submit to them, in his fantasy his Master was awesome, his Master was Stiles. His Master always would be Stiles.

But Scott knows how some owners treat the slave-pets they buy. He’s seen how Brian treats Erica. Scott’s sure no-one even recognises her, or remembers her name. She’s just Brian’s slave-pet now. And that isn’t what it was like when he pretended to be owned by Stiles while he jerked off to relieve the tension of his arousal.

Scott wipes his eyes and heads to school. He has to pretend to be a normal human, he has to make sure no-one finds out what happened to him. He has to hide what he is from his mom and best friend, he has to lie to them to protect them. And to protect himself, because while he still loves them, and he knows the loved him, what he doesn’t know is if they would love him if they know what he is.

Scott rides his bike to school, his lacrosse stick strapped to his back. He’s chaining his bike to the post when Jackson Whittemore’s Porsche pulls up alongside him. As Jackson swings open the driver side door to get out of his car it hits Scott in the ass. Jackson may put up with Stiles because he’s on the lacrosse team and nearly as good a player as Jackson is, but he has never had time for Scott. Stiles may be a nerd, but he has scored winning shots on the lacrosse field. Scott is just a nerd.

“Hey dude,” Jackson scowls at him, “Watch the paint job.”

As Jackson wanders off to the friends that called to him he keeps turning back to look at Scott, his nose twitching. Scott begins to panic. _Can Jackson tell? Does he know? Do I look different, smell different?_ His mind a confusion of worries until a hand clamps down on his shoulder his heart pounding as he wonders if WERES handlers would shoot him dead if he ran as the hand turns him round to face... Stiles.

“Dude, jumpy much?” Stiles grins at him, “Sorry for ditching you last night like that, but I didn’t want my dad finding you out there with me. I know your mom is already threatening to ban me and that would totally ruin our epic COD weekend to celebrate surviving the first week of school.”

“Oh, no totally,” Scott stumbles over his words, looking to the ground as he replies, “I get it, I mean, I totally need to beat your ass this weekend.” Stiles throws his arm over Scott’s shoulder as he steers him towards the school door.

“No Scotty boy,” Stiles grins at him, “This weekend I’m totally gonna whip your ass and own you.”

Scott stifles a whimper at Stiles’ words as he feels the blood rush to his groin, as he tries to steer his thoughts from what else Stiles could mean by them.

“I found the body last night out in the woods,” Scott stammers out, his face flushing.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asks jumping with excitement. Scott was sure this was how Stiles would react.

“I wish, I’m gonna have nightmares for months.”

“That is frikkin awesome, this is seriously the best thing that has happened to this town since... since we passed our WERES assessment.”

“Yeah,” Scott tries to sound as cheerful about that analogy as Stiles, if he didn’t Stiles doesn’t seem to notice.

At practice coach puts Scott in goal.

He’d been so looking forward to trying out, to proving himself and making first line like Stiles, but now. Now he can’t try too hard, he can’t be better than he was or people might wonder why, how, he has gotten so good. And if they insist on testing his blood they will find out he’s no-longer human. Whatever he does he has to hold back he has to not be too good.

When the coach blows his whistle the sound of it assaults Scott’s ears nearly bring him to his knees, he can’t focus and doesn’t see the ball coming at him as it hits the faceguard of his helmet and knocks him on his back.

When he stands back up he sees Stiles looking down in disappointment; he feels it cause a knot in his stomach and the need to please him and make him proud.

The next ball he catches without trying, and the next, and the next.

Jackson cuts in the line of players to be next to try and score past him. Scott can see the determination and aggression in Jackson’s stance. He runs towards him putting all his strength, agility and focus into the throw.

Scott knows he needs to let the ball pass him into the net. The aggression and need to prove he is better rises out of him from nowhere. He catches the ball.

Scott knows he shouldn’t have, that he’s been playing too good. But as he sees Stiles cheering him, jumping and whooping at the catch he made he knows he can’t stop, it makes him feel so good to know that he pleased Stiles so much.

Scott is at his locker when door is slammed shut from behind him. He turns around to the angry face of Jackson.

“ ** _Are you out of your frikkin mind McCall?_** “ Jackson snarls at him

“What?” Scott tries not whine.

“Are you trying to get attention brought down on you?” Jackson asks him, his eyes turning amber, “ _Are you that stupid that you think it would just be you they tested?_ “

“You...” Scott doesn’t get to finish his question as Jackson grabs the front of his shirt and pushes him back against his locker. He crowds in against Scott, standing chest to chest, pushing him up against the cold metal of the locker at his back, the warm heat of Jackson pressing up against his chest. He can’t help but inhale the scent of him, feeling the need to lean in and breathe more of the warm cedar and pine scent. It makes him... want, causes a need to burn in him; a need he doesn’t understand or know, a need to wrap himself around Jackson, to rub his face against his cheek, to take some of the scent of cedar and pine onto himself and make them smell the same. Jackson’s words pull Scott back from his thoughts, lifting the fog that had settled on his brain at Jackson’s closeness and the scent of him surrounding them.

“ _Who did you get to bite you?_ “ Jackson growls at him, “ _And why in the_ ** _hell_ **_would you do something so stupid?_ “

Jackson feels the pull towards Scott. As soon as he had stepped close the scent that he had picked up from him in the morning when he got out of his car. The woodsy smells of damp bark and wood anemone. It makes him want to rub himself against Scott until they smell the same. He doesn’t know why, there’s only one other person he felt like this about, and there is no way in **hell** Scott McCall would make him react like that. It must be something wolf related, but it isn’t like Jackson has anyone he can ask. Everything he knows he’s had to figure out for himself, working out what is true and what is utter bullshit about werewolves that they are taught by WERES and school.

Jackson has hidden the fact he’s a werewolf since he first changed when he was twelve. Hidden it from his parents, his friends, everyone. He’s not about to let Scott McCall ruin his life and get him enslaved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Jokr88](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokr88/pseuds/Jokr88) for beta-ing this chapter.

Scott feels like he is about to vibrate out of his skin.

Ever since Jackson cornered him in locker room after practice, since he crowded in against him. Since he found out that Jackson is a slave-pet... **_NO_** , _that’s not right neither of them are slave-pets_ , **_they are werewolves_** ; and Jackson has hidden the fact for years, from his adoptive parents and his friends. If Jackson can do it then Scott knows that he can too.

His mom is working late again tonight, he’s home alone in his room. Stiles was due to come over but there is a curfew in place. They have now confirmed that there is an escaped alpha, and that the escaped alpha is responsible for the dead body found in the woods.

Scott and Stiles never got to go back to the woods, he didn’t get to show Stiles where he saw the body, and his inhaler and phone are out there.

Scott had thought Jackson’s eyes were gonna bug out of his head when he told him what had happened, how he had been bitten. When he said he had dropped his inhaler and his phone, that they were still out there, Jackson barely stopped himself from turning furry. Scott had the strongest urge to tilt his head and bare his neck to him.

They were taught that slave-pets do that when they are looking to placate their owner when they have done something that they know is wrong. But Scott isn’t owned by Jackson, and he knows that leaving his stuff out in the woods was not a good thing, but he didn’t have a choice. _He was trying to make sure a big scary frikkin alpha didn’t eat him_.

He had planned to go back there after school; how was he to know that KWE would announce that an alpha had escaped their premises the day after he got bit by it and left his inhaler and phone, _which could be used to put him at the scene of the dead body. And show that he had been in the woods where the alpha was known to have been. And give them reason to test his blood for Lycanthropy_. **_Fuck his life he is so gonna get caught_**.

He doesn’t have a choice, he’s going to need to break the curfew and go into the woods to find his stuff before it gets dark.

Scott’s about to pull open the front door when he smells it.

On the other side of the door is a wolf, he knows it. He edges closer to the door, presses his ear against it, listening to the sounds filtering through. He jumps back in shock, startled by the sound of the doorbell ringing; the sound being amplified by his newly enhanced senses and piercing through his skull.

“Open the door, Scott,” Jackson’s voice stridently demands, “I can smell you from out here, skulking behind the door. I know your mom isn’t home, she’s working, and your little friend is home alone because of the curfew and his dad having to work with their being an alpha on the loose, and if you don’t let me in before I get arrested for being out during the curfew I will rip your throat out, with my teeth. **_So let me in_**.” Scott opens the door.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, the surprise at Jackson being at his house evident in his voice.

“Is my Porsche gonna be safe in this neighbourhood?” are the first words out of Jackson’s mouth.

“Of course it will,” Scott bites back in reply, annoyed at Jackson’s inference, “you still haven’t said why you’re even here,” Scott says to Jackson’s back as he follows Jackson walking into the living room.

Jackson turns and throws something small, white and plastic at Scott. His inhaler. It is instantly followed by his phone. Scott catches both, it was as if time slowed down around him and he had all the time in the world to have his hands in just the right place to catch them.

“You need to watch that,” Jackson says, “Try and control your instincts, they will give you away if you let them just take over like that, like you did at lacrosse practice. What have you got to eat, ‘cause we ain’t gonna be able to order in, or go out and get anything, and I’ve already risked getting caught being out during the curfew so now I’m stuck here until morning.”

_Scott is down on all fours, his knees spread wide apart with cock hard and flush against his abs. The angry red of it, needy and dripping as he suckles on the fleshy head of Stiles’ hard cock in his mouth. His tongue and throat working to bring Stiles to completion until he empties his seed into Scott. Scott’s tongue swirling over the head and lapping at the shaft and his lips sucking on him chasing the taste of him as Scott’s hips push against the air seeking that friction for his own release..._

“ **What the fuck McCall!** “ Jackson’s voice has Scott jolting awake as the image of Stiles before shatters leaving Scott staring into Jackson’s angry eyes as he feels the cooling accumulation of his release seeping through his boxers over Jackson’s abs where he had been rubbing himself while he dreamed.

“Have a nice dream about Stilinski fucking you McCall?” Jackson growls at him.

“ _NO_ ,” Scott automatically denies, it wasn’t what he was dreaming of but he can’t help the heat and rising colour that flushes over his skin at how close Jackson is to the truth; and he can see in Jackson’s widening eyes that he knows it.

“Whose car is...” Scott turns to see his mom standing at the open door of his bedroom staring at his half naked form lying over Jackson’s equally half naked form.

“ _It’s not what it looks like_ ,” both of them blurt out as they see the shocked expression on Scott’s mom’s face.

“Ah-ha, I’ve just finished a twelve hour shift, I’m tired and want to go to sleep; so breakfast in fifteen minutes and you can tell me _what it is_ before you leave for school.”

His mom closes the door behind her as she leaves, and Jackson just glowers at him. After showering, **_separately_** , they head down the stairs to face his mom.

Scott is wandering back from the bar area Lydia has set up, he has two drinks in his hands but he can’t see Stiles anywhere. Jackson was not happy about him coming to Lydia’s party, it’s the full moon and he said that Scott will find it difficult to control himself. Jackson had wanted to chain Scott up in his basement for the night. It’s what he used to do to himself until he managed to control his shifting on the nights of the full moon. And Scott had agreed, knew that it was a good idea.

Then during the week Stiles had insisted that they had to be a Lydia’s party, especially now that both of them had been picked for first line. The party was only even possible because the curfew had been lifted when the alpha had been caught. And when Stiles said that Scott was coming with him to Lydia’s party then Scott was coming to Lydia’s party. 

Scott had been mostly fine during the week, so everything should be okay. There were a couple of occasions where he winced when coach blew his whistle, or the bell was ringing right above where he was standing. But nothing too major, nothing that gave him away, and Jackson was always close and that was helping. _Scott really wasn’t sure why Jackson’s presence made it easier to control his reactions, it didn’t help as much as when Stiles was there with him, but it did help_. 

He was sure that Jackson was convinced that his mom still believed that she caught them ‘ _boning_ ‘ that morning, as he had put it when they left for school, and that was at least part of the reason he had been pissed when Scott told him he was coming to the party with Stiles and not getting chained up in Jackson’s basement. Jackson had threatened him then that if Scott started shifting at the party he would shoot him with a wolfsbane bullet himself rather than risk being exposed.

What they had told his mom that morning was mostly true. They explained that they were not interested in each other like that, explaining that Jackson was dating Lydia and he had only been there because he was dropping off Scott’s inhaler and phone that he hadn’t picked up when he left lacrosse practice. He hadn’t left when the curfew started and so had to stay overnight. It was just that they somehow ended up _entangled_ while sleeping. And Scott knew that Jackson blamed him entirely for any _entanglement_.

Scott could see Jackson glaring at him from across the room where he stood next to Lydia and Danny, he could hear Lydia complaining to Jackson that ‘ _he was distracted and not paying attention to what she was saying_ ‘. Jackson wasn’t who Scott was looking for though.

Scott turned his attention back to looking for Stiles. And then Scott found him.

He’s sweating and panting as he watches Stiles pressed up against the girl he’s kissing, pushing her against the wall of a dark and empty hallway. He feels the sharp deep cut of rejection, and the sting of the tears in his eyes as his body is wracked with pain. The tips of his fingers feeling tight until the claws rip their way through, and the coppery taste in his mouth as the fangs press through his gums.

Scott turns to strike the person pulling him through the doorway of a bedroom, growling his anger at him. He stops himself as Jackson switches them round and is pushing Scott ahead of him into the room. The door closes behind Jackson as he stalks towards Scott.

“This is what I warned you about,” his voice low as he grounds out the words, his anger evident in the rumble of his voice, “You’re lucky the music was so loud they didn’t hear you, and that they were too busy with each other to notice you perving on them.”

Scott lunges towards Jackson, only to find they are both tumbling out of an open window. Jackson holding him underneath his weight pressing heavily against him and his bright golden eyes blazing into his as he commands him, “My house NOW!”

Scott fights against him, not wanting to allow Jackson to dominate him; _it shouldn’t be Jackson_.

“Now Scott, before someone sees you, please,” Jackson’s voice suddenly pleading, “I’m trying to help you, trying to protect both of us.”

Scott breaks loose of Jackson’s grip and bolts off in the direction of Jackson’s home. Jackson quickly makes his excuses and shortly after Scott had left he leaves too, but takes his car.

The metal cuffs are cold against his exposed skin, the chain heavy across his chest and the concrete floor hard under bare ass. His shoulder blades ache where they have rubbed against the roughness of the floor under him where he lay.

“ _Why am I naked?_ “ Scott squeaks questioningly, noticing that his morning wood doesn’t disappear with embarrassment but hardens an angry red as his body heats under the stare from Jackson.

“You’d already ripped your shirt to shreds when I got here,” Jackson grumbles at him, “I had to get the rest of your clothes off you to make sure you still had something to wear when you shifted back.”

“I ripped my shirt?” Scott’s knows he must sound confused, most the night’s events a jumble of images that aren’t making sense.

“Yeah,” Jackson snaps at him, “You lost control at the party _like I said you would on the full moon_ , you shifted and nearly caused both of us to be found out, then when I got here you were ripping through your shirt, shredding it, and cutting into your arms and chest.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott knows his voice is weak and whining, he can’t think what else to say to him. The images and memories of the previous night becoming clear as he recalls seeing Stiles with some random girl and the intense feeling of jealousy and anger that welled up in him. He doesn’t know why. He knew that Stiles wasn’t interested in him like that. He knew that Stiles liked girls; he’d been pining after Lydia for years despite the fact she was dating Jackson. Scott knew he never had a chance, but he loved his friend anyway. He always would.

“You were deliberately hurting yourself,” Jackson isn’t looking at him as he speaks. Scott can feel the emotions vibrating in him, a fear and sadness, “the kind of thing that you might do if you don’t feel good enough, if you know you aren’t what they wanted. I don’t think you would have done that McCall if you hadn’t lost control because of the moon. You need to find an anchor.”

“A what?”

“You need to find something, someone, a solid presence that you can believe in,” Jackson tells him, “An emotion so strong that it ties you to your human side and doesn’t let the wolf’s instincts rule you like they did last night. A feeling of love, or trust, or anger, a need for vengeance, something so powerful that nothing can tear it from you.”

“A feeling of love,” Scott looks squarely at Jackson as he asks, “Is that your anchor, your love for Lydia and knowing that she loves you back?”

“Yes, love is my anchor,” Jackson answers quietly. He doesn’t say that it is his love for Lydia, but Scott knows it must be.

When Scott got home there was a note from his mom. They would be talking when she got back from her shift about his staying out all night and not calling to let her know where he was.

Stiles turned up around lunchtime for their Call of Duty session.

“Hey, where did you disappear to last night?” Stiles asks with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, “I was looking for you when I decide to leave but there was no sign of you.”

“I didn’t feel well,” Scott lamely replies. Stiles doesn’t push him for details.

“Oh, and here I was hoping you’d had better luck than I had now that you’re not on the bench.”

“What?” Scott’s confused, he knows Stiles was at least making out with the girl he saw him with.

“I had the misfortune of getting cornered by the girl that came with Greenberg, Mary Sue, she is like an octopus when she gets her arms around you; I had to back her into a wall and try to pry myself off of her, seriously...”

Scott laughs, he can’t help it. It’s a mixture of amusement at his friend getting trapped by Greenberg’s date and relief. He doesn’t really know why he feels relief, it doesn’t change the situation of his one-sided love affair.

As the logo comes to life on the screen Stiles turns to him.

“Laugh it up Scotty boy, you know I’m gonna own you’re ass,” Stiles scowls at him, “Hey, you know Modern Warfare 3 is out this week. Maybe you’ll have a chance to beat me at that.”

Scott didn’t win any of the games they played. His mind too caught back on Stiles’ throw away comment.

Matt Daehler had known there was something about the way McCall had suddenly been so good at lacrosse.

And the fact that Jackson was too. Damn weres that don’t know their place and use their unnatural abilities to take the opportunities that should be for humans. They basically cheated their way into the positions that they have on the team. Positions that normal humans like him had to fight for and work hard for.

He was shocked and disgusted when he overheard them at Lydia’s party. Couldn’t believe what he had seen when they fell from the window above and landed on the ground just a few feet from him. He was about to run over to them, to see what their injuries were and call for an ambulance. Only they weren’t hurt.

Both of them were fine and soon took off. A little snooping around at the party and he was certain that neither Lydia, Danny nor Stilinksi knew about them. They wouldn’t have believed him if he had tried to convince them.

No, it didn’t matter anyway. WERES told you how to handle a situation like this. So Matt called the hotline number and reported what he had seen and heard. Monday at school they will be taken care of.

When the knock came on the door of Mr Harris’s chemistry class and both Jackson and he were asked to attend the Principal’s office a panic started to run through Scott. He and Jackson walked to the door. Scott avoided Stiles’ questioning look just as thoroughly as he saw Jackson ignore both Danny and Lydia.

When they stepped through the door they ran. Scott could hear the started screams of students as the current surged through him, momentarily seeing Jackson, slightly ahead of him, fall to the ground, his limbs jerking wildly as the TAZER wire stretches back. Scott follows the line of it, looking back over his shoulder as he falls. Two WERES handlers stand each with an outstretched hand, the wires from the weapon leading to him and Jackson. Then his eyes close as he passes out.

When Scott comes to he finds himself strapped to metal table; he’s in the nurse’s office. He tries to pull his arm free, to snap the cuff bound around his wrists and the bar that runs along either side table he is lying on. He can’t, the material of the cuff chafes his skin and he feels the burn of it.

“Don’t bother McCall,” he turns to look towards Jackson’s voice. He’s bound to a table in the same manner.

“I’d listen to your friend,” a female says from behind him. He turns to try and look at her, but the collar around his neck doesn’t have enough give, “you won’t be able to get out of those,” she says as he hears her steps walking round the table to stand before them.

“ _Nobody_ could get out of these,” Scott growls at her.

“True,” she smirks at him, “Not even a werewolf, the leather has silver thread and aconite woven into it, plus with the shot you were given after we took the blood samples you aren’t going to be quite up to par... little cub.”

Scott scowls at her as she steps closer to him, her smile predatory as she flashes her teeth, her hand running up the inside of his leg.

“I wonder if my brother will let me train you,” she purrs in glee and the thought chills Scott, “you’d make a nice little companion for pet.”

“No Kate,” the voice from the doorway is firm, but clearly weary of _Kate’s_ behaviour, “if their blood work is complete and they both test positive once WERES have processed them at the compound they will be transported directly to our facility for training, and dad already has handlers selected for their training.”

“Their blood work is complete,” Kate pouts at the man, and Scott assumes he is her brother, “They are both positive for werewolf. This one,” she tousles Scott’s hair and he tries to shake her hand from his head, but the collar burns at his neck when he does, “must be the one the alpha said she had bitten last week, the cute blond over there is a born were. We’ll need to have his parents tested. He’s adopted apparently, but how could they not have noticed.”

“They’d have to have actually noticed me,” Jackson sullenly says.

“We won’t need to have them tested,” the man replies to Kate, ignoring Jackson and Scott completely, “It will be up to WERES on how to proceed with them.”

“Chris...” whatever Kate was going to say dies on her lips at the look he sends her, “Fine, whatever.”

Chris holds a metal baton in his hand.

“First lesson,” he says before he touches the end of the baton to first Jackson’s leg and then Scott’s. They both scream with the pain shooting through them.

“Obey, or you’ll feel that again,” Chris’s voice is the same calm steady firmness, but Scott sees the glee in Kate’s eye, her hope that they feel the shock of that baton surge through them again.

“Now, no speaking human. You both know how a slave-pet speaks right?” Chris asks, neither of them say a word, “Answer properly.”

“I’m no...” Jackson’s words turn to another fearful scream as Chris shocks him again.

“Please don’t...” Scott pleads for him not use the baton on Jackson only receive the same treatment. The strong scent of lemon hits Scott’s nose from where Kate stands.

“Let’s try again,” Chris calmly states, “You both know how a slave-pet speaks right?”

“Woof,” both Scott and Jackson sob.

“Good. Kate is going to remove the restraints, the collars will remain until WERES process you and replace them with proper fitted slave-pet collars after you have been chipped. Once the restraints have been unfastened you are to strip naked as a slave-pet should be. Understand?” Chris waits for their answer.

Scott assumes that the scent permeating the room from himself and Jackson can only be fear. Fear at the realisation of the hopelessness of their situation, that Scott knows he brought on Jackson. It’s only because he was bitten, Scott knows that if he hadn’t been Jackson would still be free.

“Woof,” they again both answer.

Kate unfastens the cuffs at their wrists and ankles. Slowly both Jackson and Scott remove their clothes. Their trainers, shirt, jeans, and then timidly their undershirt. Scott feels Kate staring at him from behind, her eyes raking over him like a piece of meat that she wants to... he really doesn’t want to think...

There’s raised voices outside the room.

“No there has to be some mistake, my son is not a werewolf,” Scott hears his mother shouting, crying and fearful, “I don’t care what the tests said, you’re wrong, he’s just a boy; he’s my son you can’t...”

There’s another voice, but Scott can’t make it out over the heartbroken sobs of his mom.

“ ** _He wouldn’t have been out there to be bitten unless your son was involved_** ,” she screams in anger, it must be Stiles’ dad she is shouting at, “ ** _why couldn’t he have been bitten instead!_** “ The shouting stops as she breaks down in tears, the sound of fists pounding against someone’s chest, and the occasional muffled ‘No’ breaking through the tears.

“Mom...” Scott move towards the door, the need to comfort his mom, to ask her forgiveness, but the shock surges through him.

“STRIP!” Chris commands, “Everything now.”

When they are led through the school to the were-cells it is lunch break. There is a leash connected to each collar and Chris is leading them through the corridors, the WERES handlers and Kate behind them. Scott can see the look of horror and disgust on Stiles’ face when he sees them. He knows how much his friend must hate him now. There is shock and disbelief on Lydia and Danny’s faces too. 

They are locked in separate cells to await the WERES transport truck. Those are never dispatched to a school until the documentation with the results of blood tests arrives to confirm that there are werewolves to be retrieved.

Scott hears the lock turning in the door. They must be here already.

He wipes his eyes, doesn’t want them to see him crying.

“This is the third time I’ve seen your junk in less than two weeks,” Stiles voice cuts into the darkness, “Here, quick put these on. I don’t know whose they are,” he says throwing a pair of tracksuit pants and vest at him.

“Stiles,” Scott can’t believe that he is here, “What...”

“We don’t have time Scotty, now quick, while I get Jackson out,” and Stiles is back out the door.

“Jesus Stilinski, who did you swipe these from, Greenberg?” Scott hears Jackson complain from the other cell.

When they cautiously step out of the were-cells they see the WERES handler that was on guard unconscious, the prongs from the TAZER imbedded in his neck.

“I don’t know how long that will keep him out, it was still set to whatever he used on werewolves,” Stiles says, “but I checked, he still has a pulse, and he didn’t see me.”

They make their way around the building, passing the locker room. Stiles tells Scott that they should make their way to his jeep, that Scott knows where the spare set of keys are.

But Scott and Jackson share a look, they both know that they aren’t gonna make it. They can hear the WERES truck arriving, they can hear the sound of the handlers, the scent of the wolfsbane identifying them, behind them and ahead. The handler must have come round and raised the alarm.

Before they are found together Jackson and Scott push Stiles into the nearest janitor’s storeroom. At Stiles protests Scott knows that he has to make him understand why he can’t let them know that he tried to help them.

“Stiles, think of your dad,” Scott quickly says, “If they find out you tried to help then he’ll lose his job.” And quietly, so quietly that he knows Stiles can’t hear him, “ _I love you_.”

They’ll tell the other handlers that he tried to stop them escaping. They’ll say that they don’t know who unlocked the doors, and that the guard was out cold when they ventured out; they stole the clothes from the locker room. Nothing will make them give up the one brave person that stupidly tried to save them.

** Six Months Later **

Scott had watched from his cage as Danny came in as soon Argents’ store opened. He had headed straight to Jackson’s cage. An hour later they had left the store together.

It gave Scott hope that Stiles was going to come in and buy him. If Danny knew that Jackson was here then Stiles must know that Scott is too. Maybe he did hear what he had said after he and Jackson had locked him the storeroom. Maybe his life won’t be totally unbearable, Stiles would be the awesomest Master.

As the day wears on there are several customers that come and go, but Stiles isn’t one of them. Scott wonders that maybe he did hear what he had said after he and Jackson had locked him the storeroom, maybe he didn’t want to hear. Lydia hadn’t looked at any cages when she come in. She just asked if Jackson was still for sale and left in a foul mood when told that he had already been sold.

When the lights are being switched off that night Scott can’t hold back the sob that is pulled from him. He knows that Stiles isn’t going to come and buy him. He may have tried to save him that day because they had been friends, but he remembers the look Stiles had when he and Jackson were lead through the corridor to the were-cells. He remembers how disgusted Stiles had been when he saw that Scott was slave-pet, and telling Stiles he loved him was more than Stiles wanted to know.

**Author's Note:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-2
> 
>  _Scott is down on all fours, his knees spread wide apart with cock hard and flush against his abs. The angry red of it, needy and dripping as he suckles on the fleshy head of Stiles hard cock in his mouth. His tongue and throat working to bring Stiles to completion until he empties his seed into Scott. Scott’s tongue swirling over the head and lapping at the shaft and his lips sucking on him chasing the taste of him as Scott’s hips push against the air seeking that friction for his own release…_  
>  “ **What the fuck McCall!** ” Jackson’s voice has Scott jolting awake as the image of Stiles before shatters leaving Scott staring into Jackson’s angry eyes as he feels the cooling accumulation of his release seeping through his boxers over Jackson’s abs where he had been rubbing himself while he dreamed.  
> “Have a nice dream about Stilinski fucking you McCall?” Jackson growls at him.


End file.
